


Spatula Studies 101

by TigerShinigami



Category: Community (TV), Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Humor, Inspector Spacetime - Freeform, Meta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:13:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26524270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TigerShinigami/pseuds/TigerShinigami
Summary: “It’s a crossover,” Abed said pointing a finger punctually in the air. “One property crossing over into another. Although this one is several years past its prime. No one will read it.”
Comments: 5
Kudos: 22





	Spatula Studies 101

They were huddled closely together in a circle with their backs to the rest of the room. 

“Will someone please tell me what’s going on?” Annie whispered, her normally cheerful tone betraying her confusion. 

“I’ll tell you what’s going on- Jeff’s having another one of his paranoid ‘everything’s about me!’ moments,” Britta whispered back. She eyed Jeff in accusation. 

“I’m not being paranoid,” Jeff whispered fiercely. “This guy was sent by Professor Duncan to spy on us. He’s obviously some British friend that owed him a favor that’s trying to get dirt on me. Ever since I got that text message that was meant for the cafeteria lady. _He_ knows that _I_ know. And now he’s trying to get something about _me_ to use as blackmail.”

“I don’t know, Jeff, that sure seems like a stretch,” Shirley muttered. 

“That’s because it’s all in Jeff’s head. Typical male competitiveness. Someone new threatens your place and you assume he’s out to get us,” Britta said. 

“He doesn’t _look_ like a spy,” Annie said carefully in an attempt to be helpful, to keep the peace.  
  
“Just because he’s a little handsome, doesn’t mean we can trust him,” Jeff bit out. 

“Are you sure you’re not… _Jealous_ someone cooler than you is here?” Britta challenged, amusement seeping into her tone. 

Jeff scoffed. “What? No!”

“You _have_ been a little sensitive about this in the past,” Annie said gently. 

“That’s not it,” Abed said, now suddenly in the huddle. They jumped. 

“Abed! I thought you were supposed to be keeping _him_ busy?” Annie nudged her head in a certain direction, the one that led to _him._

“I was, but this is more interesting. It’s a crossover,” Abed said pointing a finger punctually in the air. “One property crossing over into another. Although this one is several years past its prime. No one will read it.”

“Now’s not the time, Abed. This is serious,” Jeff said, his patience gone. 

“Part of a crossover is seeing how one group of characters reacts to another,” he stated quickly and simply. “Will they set aside their differences in favor of a common goal? Will they realize they aren’t so different from one another in the first place?” He whispered with a touch of drama that was reminiscent of a narrator’s voice. 

Annie frowned and made a face. “Wait, if you’re _here,_ then who’s-”

“You... do know I can hear you, right?” Said the lanky man in a pinstripe suit with a British accent who was sitting at the study table. Four feet away. 

They looked at each other, before settling on plastering smiles on their faces and stiffly waving awkwardly at him. 

“Is it true in England, farts sound different because you talk weird?” Troy said curiously from his seat at the table. 

The man stared at him, completely speechless. It was a very, very rare moment for the man, but no one there knew enough to appreciate it. 

It was some time before he could finally reply. “Ah- Erm- No, no they don’t.”

Troy nodded but was clearly disappointed. “I knew that.” 

From his seat at the table Pierce started to laugh by himself. “I’ll tell you what else they do in England-”

“Pierce!” The group shouted in unison.

He shrugged innocently. “What? Can’t I talk?”

“Not now,” Jeff said sharply.  
  
“I think... we should be on our best behavior in front of our guest,” Shirley said sweetly and gestured to the British man, smiling. She turned towards Pierce with the smile rigidly in place. “Behave yourself,” She ordered in a low, threatening tone. 

A thunderous sound roared down the hallway as Chang, dressed in his security guard uniform, ran towards the study room at speed. He hastily threw open the doors and practically stumbled through the threshold. “It should’ve been ME!” He yelled desperately as if in pain. “ME! _I_ should’ve been the newest member of the group!” He wailed. Suddenly he shifted his attention on the British man reclining in a nearby chair. “ _You!_ ” He hissed.

The British man was understandably taken aback by this development, tensed in his chair and warily watching the crazed Asian man before him. “No- Sorry, I think you’re confused. I’m not-”

“You! You _limey_ ! Little skinny _English_ man!” Chang let out a yell that could be mistaken for a roar. Just as he started to charge forward Troy and Jeff rushed forward on either side to restrain him. 

“Chang, we haven’t added anyone into our study group! He’s just a visitor!” Annie hastily said, her arms outstretched in an attempt at signaling peace. 

The visitor had stood up out of his chair and backed away several steps. “I’m not- I’m not- Now just listen-” 

“It was supposed to be _me!_ What is it? Is it the cool glasses? The fancy suit? The Brrrrritash accent?!” Chang demanded, his voice morphing into an outrageous English accent. 

“Chang, shut up! He’s not part of the group!” Jeff shouted. “Britta, Annie, get the doors.”

The two rushed to open the doors to the study room and held them aside. Jeff and Troy continued to wrestle against Chang’s advances to push him backwards, inch by inch. 

“No- Stop it, stop it! Everyone just- calm down. Calm down!” The man ordered. Something in his voice, in his stance, had more authority than any of them were used to at their school. Chang stopped struggling. They all watched him at attention. 

“My name is John Smith. I’m not trying to join anyone’s anything,” The British man said holding his hands up in front of him, his tone calm yet direct. “Look-” He fished into his suit pocket and pulled out a small black wallet, flipping it open and holding out for everyone to see. “John Smith, part of the Academics Board of Excellence of Colorado. See? Just here to look around and ask some questions. Don’t mind me.” He watched each person carefully for their response. Even Chang seemed to calm down, his struggling reduced to an angry occasional twitch. 

“If you’re not here as a student… What _are_ you here for?” Shirley asked with a raised brow. 

“Well, I was hoping not to draw attention to myself…” He muttered. “I’m just here to look into something, really. That’s all.”

Chang suddenly shoved Jeff and Troy away. He walked backwards through the open doors. “I’ll be watching you,” He said bobbing his head about in a zig-zag pattern, his eyes watching John unblinking. “I’ll be _watching._ ” He whispered as he walked, his gaze never drifting for a second. Until he was further back in the hallway, and he physically had to turn so his staring could continue unabated. 

They breathed a sigh in relief. 

“He’s a bit off, isn’t he?” John said, mouth slightly agape, as he watched the man with a concerned, baffled expression.

“You get used to it,” Britta said, her words passing through layers of frustration, depression, and resignation all within seconds. 

“What is it you want to know?” Abed said. 

“I’m here to learn more about one of your classes - Theoretical Spectramorphic Atomic Studies 201, I believe. Brand new, showed up in the catalogue this year.”

“But… We don’t have a class about Theoretical Spectramorphic Atomic Studies,” Annie said. 

“She would know. Annie reads the class catalogue for fun,” Jeff said.  
  
She gaped. “That was _one_ time!” 

“Hold on - Did you say you don’t offer Theoretical Spectramorphic Atomic Studies?” John’s brows furrowed in thought. 

Annie thought for a moment and shrugged, apologetic. “Sorry… I don’t think that we do.” 

“So, you’re saying you _don’t_ have a class taught by former inventor Charles Simpson, who’s debut a new possible form of Isolated Fission?” John asked. 

The group exchanged looks and shook their heads. 

“We have a ‘Spatula Studies’ class, though,” Britta said. 

John paused, nearly speechless for another time that day. Once again, the significance of this was lost on everyone else in the room. “...How does one teach a class on spatulas?”

“I think you just… I dunno, study them. And cook stuff with them.” Britta shrugged. 

“Oh! I heard about that,” Shirley intoned cheerily. “You get to bake cookies for a final exam!” Her mood turned sour, scary and dark. “I was going to take it if it wasn’t for Hillary Jenkins and her squad taking the last seats. I hope their cookies burn.”

“I want a class that has cookies,” Troy said. 

“Why would you think we had a class like that here? This is _Greendale.”_ Jeff said with emphasis, as if that was explanation enough. For most people, it was. 

“You must be thinking of City College,” Abed intoned. 

Everyone listened, pondered for a moment, before letting out sounds of realization all at once. It was obvious. 

“I knew you were too cool to be here,” Troy said in dismay. 

John Smith’s reaction wasn’t immediately clear to those in the room. After a beat his eyes widened, very so slightly, before addressing the others. “City College. That’s- That’s the other school across town.” He puffed air into his cheeks and mouth and blew it out again. 

“Well, I suppose I’ll get going then. Sorry to bother you!” He suddenly said casually and cheerfully, an attempt to counter what would’ve certainly been a very embarrassing situation for anyone else, besides him. He gave a quick wave as he left and walked through the library doors. 

Abed followed behind and found the curious man before he walked off campus. 

“That was cool what you did with the blank paper. Everyone believed it said something,” Abed said.  
  
John raised an eyebrow with a wry grin. “Saw that, did you?” He said curiously. “What did you say your name was?”

“Abed,” He said with a nod. “Have you thought about if your life was a TV show?”

If the shift in topic threw him off, John didn’t show it. “My life as a TV show? Oh, I dunno- Who’d want to watch a show about boring old me?” John said casually, dismissively, yet with the slightest amused twinkle in his eye. 

Abed tilted his head. “Who, indeed.” John didn’t catch his joke, but Abed wasn’t surprised. “I’ve gotta get back. Troy and I were planning to watch Inspector Space-Time.” Abed said without pause. “It was cool meeting you.” He turned abruptly and went back into the building. 

John Smith watched him go for a beat, before thinking aloud. “...Inspector What?”

-Fin-


End file.
